1. Mr. Ukulele Takes a Break

    0

    August 22, 2014 by admin

    On my last day in the park before a 10 day vacation, I planned to venture onto center stage again, but the big bubble man had beat me to it, so once again I set up on the path. And once again my first customer was a walkaway, of more or less spectacular dimensions. It was a 50-year-old stewardess who lived in Hawaii and her friend, who had neglected to buy her a lei when he picked her up at JFK.

    “I can take care of that,” I said, draping a pink lei around her neck. She would not hula, but she did stand for a picture. She loved it that my uke was from Hawaii, and we discussed the awesome beauty of the islands, from Hilo to Hanapepe. I did a quick rendition of “Tiptoe through the Tulips” at his request, then entered into a long discussion of ukulele tunes from the 20’s and 30’s.

    “We gotta go,” said the man. And go they did.

    A mother-daughter team walked by. “You know how to hula,” said mom.

    “Oh, all right,” said the girl of about 9.

    While she danced, 2 babysitters encouraged the 3 toddlers in their charge to join in. This hula-paluzza spread out over the path, halting traffic. No one seemed to mind; out came cameras and wallets.

    A Scandanavian-looking man of 25 or so walked by. Our eyes met and that ineffable aloha spirit passed between us. He stopped and plunked down a Sacagawea dollar.

    “Have you got time for a hula today?” I asked two 30-somethings.

    “No hula,” said one, “but could you play ‘Happy Birthday’ to Alyson?”

    I could and did, for which I received a fiver.

    A pre-teen Hispanic kid in a #5 Flacco football jersey, trotted down the path behind me and gave me a dollar. He had been seated on the rock opposite the bench on the hill behind me.

    At the end of my set, a pear-shaped old man with a bald pate and in a tie-dyed teeshirt parked his cart directly in front of me and started taking out his easel and canvases.

    “I’m leaving now,” I said, “so I won’t give you a hard time, but really?”

    “No, no,” he explained, “I’m just rearranging my stuff. I’m done for the day too.”

    “Okay, then I apologize,” I said. “But an awful lot of caricaturists have moved up this way. I thought they set up closer to Central Park South, by the zoo.”

    “They do,” he told me, “but the city is trying to get us out of there,” he said.

    I counted out $10.50, a decent enough haul in regular times, if a little light for this spectacular week. So “Aloha” for now; see you after Labor Day.

    Category Uncategorized | Tags:

  2. A Definition of Aloha

    0

    August 21, 2014 by admin

    Despite another gorgeous day, I skipped center stage for the shaded comfort of my spot on the path. Two days in a row in the sun was enough. On my way I stopped to chat with Meta, whom I haven’t seen in weeks. She’d been away, visiting her kids, of whom there are at least six. While we gloried in how beautiful a summer it’s been so far, Meta confessed to exhaustion. “To be honest,” she said, “I wish it would rain already.”

    A park worker was hooking up the sprinklers by my spot. Together, we adjusted the arc of water so I, or my dancers, wouldn’t get wet. Unfortunately, the sprinkler ended up in a patch of myrtle on a hillside, and, with each sweep, inched downward, ever closer. I moved to the other side of the path and was able to play my complete set, dry as toast, before the water reached my feet.

    Two couples made their way past me toward the boathouse. “Have you got time for a hula today?”

    One of the women stopped while the others walked on. “Can you play the Hukilau?” she asked. Can I! “Let’s make it quick,” she added. “My husband’s in a hurry.”

    After a single verse, she handed back the lei and hurried toward her husband and friends. Hula walk-aways do have their uses, however, because a group of picnickers, seeing the dance, got the right idea. A young blond man in a yarmulke, came running, with 3 of his buddies behind. “I love the ukulele,” he said, reaching for a lei. Soon the four of them were dancing up a storm. “Brilliant,” they repeated to each other. “Brilliant.” When they thanked me and returned to their group, my case was still empty. It looked like another walkaway, but the young man soon returned with a fiver. He was with a Jewish youth group from London and had totally fallen in love with New York.

    A young woman walked by and dropped a dollar, followed by a little boy who dug into his pocket and pulled out 8 pennies. A little later, a Chinese woman pointed her camera at me for the length of “I Saw Stars.” At the end of the song I invited her to hula, but she couldn’t, she told me, as this was a live broadcast to China. “Would you like to say something to the Chinese people?”

    “I wish you all health, happiness, and a lifetime of aloha. Now everyone get up and hula.”

    “Hula? What is hula?”

    “The native dance of Hawaii.”

    “And aloe?”

    “Aloha, a word for hello, good-bye, and universal good-feeling among all people.” The woman started to translate, then moved on, as if we’d gone to commercial break.

    A little boy of 3 or 4 eagerly put on a lei. I launched into “The Hukilau Song,” but he stood, feet planted on the ground, stiff and straight. Only his hands moved. This hula consisted of flapping wrists and nothing else. His parents were delighted and gave me $3.

    With the sprinkler almost on me, I closed up shop with $15.08 in my pocket. The last 3 days have been off the charts. To be honest, I wish it would never rain.

    Category Uncategorized | Tags: ,

  3. Another Picture Perfect Day

    0

    August 20, 2014 by admin

    Another beautiful day found me again at center stage. A couple from Mexico started me off with a fiver, and once again I was off to the races, chalking up a $17.75 day. These gorgeous August afternoons have bathed the tourists in the aloha spirit.

    An Indian man gave me a dollar, after which he and his wife sat on a bench in the shade for a half dozen songs, applauding after each one. A girl from London did a credible hula, then walked away. A man from Texarkana stopped to chat; he was delighted that we New Yorkers seemed to understand his drawl, not the case, he informed me, with those other Northerners he recently met in Seattle. He was very taken with John Boyd’s sacred music ensemble.

    “They sent a chill up my spine,” he told me. “They’re very professional.”

    “Unlike what I do here,” I said, “which is very unprofessional, but lots of fun.”

    After a lengthy chat, he let me get back to my gig, joining the Indian couple in the shade.

    Two willowy women from Toronto approached. They both were 6 feet tall or more, one blond, one brunette, with a photographer in their wake. “Do you mind if we take a picture?” one asked.

    “Of course,” putting leis around their necks, “and then we’ll do a hula.” They made quite an impression on the people walking by, many stopping to watch and take pictures. The Texan got off his bench to snap a few himself.

    A short time later, I cajoled a group of six 20-somethings to dance. They set up 3 on my left, 3 on my right. The right-hand contingent coordinated their movements to “The Hukilau Song,” throwing their nets into the sea, but the left-hand couldn’t get started and watched flat-footed until the music stopped.

    I’m generally reluctant to ask women in religious garb to dance, but if I detect any interest, by way of a slackening pace or a smile, I might go for it. I’m a little less hesitant with the Hasidim, but in all cases I’ve yet to receive a positive response. This day was no exception, although, for the first time a young, round Hasid gave his bewigged wife a dollar to drop in my case.

    The Texan and his wife got up to leave. “I got some great pictures,” he told me, peeling a fiver from a wad of bills. “Have you got a card, I’ll send them to you.”

    Category Uncategorized | Tags:

« Older Entries

Archives